Wild Jag WarriorChapter 1 Slaves and Traders
by Green Kestral
Summary: The adventure begins as Lyra, a feirce warrior fights for her freedom against the evil Lord Gladvac...


Chapter 1

Slaves and Traders

Lyra knelt on the soft forest floor, trying to pick up the traces of the herd of deer that had been there only a few hours before her. One hand held a long white ivory colored bow. The other traced the deer's recent prints.

Lyra was in hiding. Her family had been sold as slaves and was far off north in the clutches of the Empire. It was because of her race- she was an Elf, one of the last native races in the land. Unlike humans, Elves had pointed ears, slanted eyes, perfectly shaped faces and a small and slightly pointed nose. Lyra wasn't very different. She wore comfortable clothes: with a tunic and breeches she could move lightly and swiftly. She had dark brown hair and a pale, slender form. She was sixteen years old.

As she knelt in the undergrowth a foul smell met her nostrils. It was the smell of smoke. Lyra rose and looked around for the source of the smell. What she saw made her go paler than she already was. The smoke was rising from a place that she knew something special lay. Something special like…

"My home," Lyra whispered.

Her bow slipped from her grasp as she ran full out through the undergrowth. Her breath came in gasps. She jumped over a large leafy bush and crashed into a scene she had been dreading to see for years. Her once comfortable home now lay in smoldering ruin. Wood and ash was blown about everywhere. Nothing of value remained but her Orlov Trotter, Arwen. The mare tossed her head and whinnied. Lyra rushed over and calmed the horse. No matter how hard she tried to stop them, tears streamed down her face.

Lyra stood around a wood fire in the clearing she had been in just hours before. A soft breeze rushed through her hair, making it billow out behind her. Her horse stood a yard away tied to a tree and eating grass steadily. Lyra gnawed on her knuckle as she paced the small wood fire. What would she do now? What life would she lead now that the only one she knew was lost? She couldn't do anything until she had supplies. She would visit the traders. They would have fair supplies and news. Lyra's bones ached and muscles screamed in protest with every step she took. The thought of the hunting trip still made her feel sick- if she had stayed home, she would have been killed or taken as a slave. First I will rest, she thought, as she curled into a ball on the mossy ground. Everything will be okay in the morning – all I want is rest.

In the morning Lyra dowsed the fire and untied Arwen from the tree. Lyra was very sore from sleeping on the ground. Bruises dotted her legs from rolling on an odd sharp rock. Lyra rubbed her legs as she led her horse through the quiet wood. A bird seemed to be whistling in every tree, making the canopy ring in birdsong. Lyra sighed wistfully.

'A warrior maiden arises from shadow

She who does not seem to be

The first maiden warrior of the age

You shall be the downfall of the Empire.

But in vain, to save her race.'

"The traders!!" Lyra cried and she ran through the trees with her horse galloping behind her.

She had found them! She ran into a clearing and slowed to a walk. Everywhere there were people talking and children playing and traders selling goods.

One cracked looking old woman was telling a boy off, "Doebra would you stop scaring other children."

"It's not my fault;" the boy named Doebra complained back, "If Sam hadn't insulted my family he wouldn't be with the healer right now."

"Well you are going to apologize right now young man," said the cracked old woman.

And with that she led the pleading boy into a brightly colored healer's tent. Lyra laughed. Children could be so funny sometimes. Still chuckling, Lyra unhooked a small tan leather bag from her belt and spilled the contents into her hand. Only a few small coppers fell into her palm. Lyra thought fast. She could hunt her own food, but was running low on arrows.

Lyra started to make a mental list of what she would need: bedroll, arrows, cooking pots, flint, steel and a steel claymore. The claymore had been glinting at her from behind a traders shoulder and she couldn't resist it. She also bought a little, hot strawberry pie. She ate it quickly and was just licking the sticky fruit off her fingers, when the little boy Doebra walked over. He sat next to her and watched her eating.

Finally when she could stand it no longer she snapped at him. "It's rude to stare!"

The unsuspecting boy started, toppled over his seat and landed in the dirt with a thud. Coughing, Lyra rushed over and helped the boy up.

"Sorry," she mumbled keeping her eyes down, "I'm just not used to people."

"There's no need to say sorry to this young man, he probably deserved it." Lyra spun around.

There was the cracked old woman again leaning heavily on her staff with her beady black eyes scanning the boy with much dislike.

"First you hurt a poor little boy and now you're bothering a young woman."

"He wasn't bothering me he just scared me is all," Lyra protested.

The woman's eyes swiveled to scan Lyra instead. Her black eyes contrasted completely with Lyra's crystal blue ones. But instead of telling her off the woman turned on her heel and rounded on the boy again.

"You've poisoned her mind to thinking you are innocent you disgusting boy!"

The woman kicked the boy in the shin with her sharp boot point. She started hitting the boy across the head repeatedly. Lyra's eyes burned blue fire as she saw this cruelty. She drew her sword and held it aloft over her head.

"Do not touch him again," she said speaking quietly as to not attract attention.

Her sword glinted. The woman fell back cowering and hobbled as fast as she could away. Doebra lay huddled on the dusty ground. His shin was bleeding and one eye was black and blue. When the boy got up he winced.

"That's how she always treats her slaves," Doebra spat, "Like scum."

"You're a slave?" Lyra gasped.

Doebra looked up sharply.

"I'm still a human boy," he said indifferently.

"I'm sorry," Lyra mumbled, "I didn't mean it like that."

Doebra looked at her for a moment than said, "That's okay."

Lyra sat down again and breathed heavily.

Doebra sat down beside her and said, "Tell me of your life."

"My life?" Lyra asked startled. Doebra nodded. Lyra looked around uncomfortably.

"It's a little private and if you have shelter…? Lyra mumbled.

Doebra nodded again and offered her his hand. Together they slowly made their way across the crowded noisy clearing. When Doebra came to a stop he presented to her the saddest looking place she had ever seen. The shabby hut had cobwebs hanging from the doorway and mice scuttled all around it. Lyra was disbelievingly led into the hut. Dust and mold was on everything and the place stank of smelly socks. A crack in the wall was the only source of light.

"Home sweet home," Doebra said gloomily and flung himself onto his tattered and frayed bed.

He settled down before he said. "Now start from the beginning and tell me your name."

And Lyra began her story reliving it for the first time in her life. "When I was ten years old the Empire raided the Quiet Wood and came upon my house. I was outside working in the garden when I heard the pound of iron clad hooves moving fast across the mossy ground. I ran around the other side of the house and I saw the largest horse I had ever seen. I stood stalk still too scared to move. The horse reared and threw the rider from his saddle. The man fell and never rose again. Finally I regained the feeling in my legs and ran into the burning house. I could not find my mom, dad or brother. But I did find my grandparents smoldering on the hearth. The were dead. I cried and told them to wake up. But I had no idea that they would never open an eyelid again. I gathered some tools that remained from the fire and dug a deep trench to bury them in. That took me almost a month to finish. By the time it was finished my hands were cut and bleeding and had many wood splinters. I couldn't hold anything for days. I lived off the roots and berries that the forest provided using the knowledge of which ones to eat from my mother. I had little pocket money left. One day when I was trying to make a fire a small man came bounding through the woods in complete disarray. He was mumbling that Lord Gladvac would kill every elf in the land and that doom was near at hand. He was also leading a beautiful mare. I offered money for the mare and the little man sold her in a heartbeat. He wandered away crying praise to the gods for the 'blessed' money. Over many years I rebuilt my mother's home and promised myself that I would never let the house burn again. And I failed." Lyra finished.

If her eyes were watering than she would blame it on the light.

"I don't have a future decided yet." She mumbled.

Doebra, who was quiet the whole time, roused as if from a dream.

He looked into her eyes and said, "I have an idea."


End file.
